image from blogs.monashores.net
“So he tasted the deep pain that is
reserved for the strong.”--F. Scott Fitzgerald
Tis true, pit vipers have a lethal bite.
I’ve never seen a serpent I don’t want to smite.
Last night I heard the preacher got bit,
as immediately the rattlesnake was smote,
for no man enjoys being bitten,
leaving the faithful less than smitten.
She loved to take a midnight ride,
bareback & naked, with nothing to hide.
Sometimes she was watched as she rode
by hooded men who always hid;
but she remained joyous she’d ridden
& the voyeurs remained quite hidden.
Too often Joseph stopped after work for a drink,
& from overconsumption he’d never shrink;
his terrible thirst never satisfied as he drank,
slumping, slouching into his grief he shrank--
then after, endangering others as he drove drunk,
discovering the next morning his IQ had shrunk.
That afternoon you could really hear the city’s beat,
even overriding momentarily your need to eat;
pounding & screeching hard, clanging gears, jackhammer beat,
counterpointed by your swallowing as you ate--
the city remaining victorious, never beaten
as your ham & eggs were ravenously eaten.
They say that little Werner just had to fly,
and his grand dreams continued to grow,
until the first successful solo he flew
as his confidence & expertise grew,
until soaring faltered as years had flown,
skills diminished & passion was overgrown.
As any storm subsides, the birds will sing,
embracing the stillness with notes that ring;
cheering travelers, so grateful they sang,
with critters hyper-aware of what rang;
even the sun complimenting what was sung
as great trees expand a rung.
Poets often need that perfect word to find,
avoiding putting a stanza in a bind;
needing a publisher & a public to be foundbefore seeing their own volume bound.
Posted over at dVerse Poets MTB
For Victoria, calling for "revisiting the use of verbs". I chose Strong Verbs.
Boedromion = March in Greek
Kraftig = Strong in German.